Glass Art... Poem by Aleksandra Szymanska

Dreams are like fragile stained glass,
touched by divine, flawless brush.
These illuminated wonders just pass,
on the sky of life they glide in rush…

And our hearts melt many dreams,
then our hope inflates them into bubbles.
Above our heads flow glasslike streams
meant to conjure away all troubles…

We live in a mosaic of bliss to come.
Melange of desires spreads through the sky,
where our hope and faith gently roam,
though sometimes bad fortune makes us cry…

But still the sky gets filled with glass balls.
They glide smoothly through, or quickly break.
The stained glass image persists and calls
to dream and give whatever it takes…

Glass art II

There's a window made of this glass:
magical motley of purple and blue.
Time paints each flower with a straw of grass
that grows in the land of wisdom and truth...

There's the window and its art
through which honour looks at the sky.
Every smallest piece plays its part:
life's molecules glide so fast and so high...

I've seen beds of violets set in the frame
made of diamonds and its warm smile.
Velvet scent softens sweet, spring air -
I take a straw, I walk long miles...

I meet on my way lavender fields
and slowly dive into their breath.
A hand of justice erases the guilt
imposed upon me by lie and theft...

There's the window and its hope:
its glass is so strong - it never breaks.
It's shaped into a heart for all to cope
with their life deformed by others' mistakes...